To Thine Own Self
by lethedrop
Summary: Yami Bakura encounters difficulties while robbing a private vault. Ryou to the rescue! Or something.


Disclaimer: I don't own _Yu-Gi-Oh!_ and I'm not profiting from this fanwork.

—Mahaad, when it's his turn to bear the Ring, is thought by his peers to be a weak magic user while actually he's been using much of his power to contain the evil he senses in the Item. Between Ryou's interest in the occult and his implausible ignorance of so much that goes on in the series, it seems possible that he'd secretly be a magic user like his predecessor.

—Abe no Seimei is a sort of grandfather for _onmyoujutsu_, Japanese yin-yang magic. _Fuda,_ in this context, are paper charms.

—Aibou - partner

**To Thine Own Self Be True**

Yami no Bakura peered into the vault and evaluated the stacks upon stacks of featureless brown boxes. He strode forward without looking back, trusting his hastily assembled crew to follow.

Malevolence radiated from a small box in the far right corner—his true target. He secreted it in one of his trench coat's inner pockets and grabbed the box it had been sitting on. The half-dozen underworld scum he'd hired surged around the vault, joking and jostling, and soon all the goods were streaming into the vans.

As he bent for one of the last boxes, hairs prickled on the back of his neck. He threw himself to one side and reached for the Shadows, but it was too late. Pain exploded near his heart and his legs folded under him, his body suddenly refusing all commands. He could only watch a blurry Tanaka shoot Echizawa and Inoue and then shut the vault door.

Tanaka and anyone who had thrown in with him were going to die slowly one night soon. Their original cuts had been more than generous, especially given the number of rare artifacts that the vault had held. It was more lucrative than robbing even a pharaoh's tomb.

It wasn't as though these men had starving families dependent on them. Japan was practically a socialist nation; the lower classes weren't subject to some capricious despot's stranglehold on the economy.

Bakura gritted his teeth and shoved the dark memories away.

The betrayal had been purely out of greed, which was inexcusable. Not that he wouldn't have been annoyed at being shot for more legitimate reasons.

He was going to make an artistic example of Tanaka.

Bloody, scream-filled thoughts were all well and good, but they wouldn't solve the immediate problem. Bakura forced his hand to an arm sheath and pulled a knife to begin digging the bullet out from below his heart. A real body would already have given out, but a construct of Shadows and will had no life to lose. Like a summoned Monster, it could be dispelled if the damage were severe enough…the question was whether it was worse to dig out the bullet and worsen the blood loss, or to have it lodged inside, preventing healing and keeping him in shock.

He'd simply discard the body, but he didn't think his Host had the energy to support the creation of a new one. The boy used most of his energy each day fighting the influence of the Ring; the drain of supporting one extra body was already close to too much. It was questionable whether or not there was even enough energy to heal the body he was using.

So he was stuck with a damaged body. That was fine; now that the bullet was out he could focus on healing the wound. Assuming blood loss didn't weaken him…to the point of causing…the body to…dissipate….

The darkness that had been hovering at the edges of his vision closed in.

- - -

When Bakura awakened, the vault's lights had shut off, indicating that the computerized security system had returned to normal. The thieves' program had been designed to erase itself just before the changing of the guard, which meant it was past 2:43 AM. The security cameras would be on, the alarms would be active…and Tanaka would have made a clean getaway. May he face unspeakable torment in the afterlife, just as soon as Bakura was through with him.

Speaking of getaways—Bakura prodded his gunshot wound. It was raw, but not bleeding. His limbs had the heavy, tingly feeling he associated with blood loss, but he would be able to stand soon.

The real problem was getting his loot home. It would be easy to let his body dissipate and be drawn back to the Ring, but that would loose him his prize. He hadn't gone to so much trouble just to give up.

He didn't dare take a shortcut through the Shadow Realm, though—he wasn't sure how his prize would react to it. Or, for that matter, how the Realm would react to his prize. They might not respond to each other at all, or they could interact violently and destroy his soul. There was no way of knowing.

The best solution would be to walk out of the vault, but the door only opened with a key code inputted from the outside. He could not summon a Monster to destroy the door or a wall, because this vault's wards were constructed to prevent magical attacks not only from without, but also from within.

Come to think of it…that was probably to keep certain of the vault's contents quiescent. Tanaka and his crew—Ammit devour them—might not survive their loot long enough for Bakura to play a Game with the scum.

He rolled his head from side to side, loosening his neck, and considered his options. He had two courses of action. He could wait for someone to open the door, overpower them, and run for it. Or he could call someone to break through security and salvage the job before the police or worse, the media, became involved.

Neither left him much dignity, but at least the latter option would prevent anyone who mattered from noticing. There were limits to how many people he could memory-wipe at once.

He reached across the Shadows.

"_Ryou…my other self…wake up…."_ His host drifted briefly up toward consciousness, then sank back into sleep. _"Ryou…Ryooooou…."_ There was the ghostly sensation of rolling over in soft cotton sheets.

He allowed an edge to creep into his tone. _"Landlord, if you don't rouse yourself now you won't like how I wake you."_

"…_Voice?"_ His Host still favored that nickname, even after Bakura had become able to draw enough energy to manifest a separate body. There was something seriously wrong with his Other.

But no matter.

"_Get up!"_ Ryou jerked and fell out of bed, and Bakura snickered into his mind as he sat up and rubbed his arm. The boy snuffled groggily and reached up for the dried fruit he kept on his bed stand, munching a handful as he hauled himself to his feet. Once he could stand steadily, he made his way to the kitchen to heat a bowl of leftover stew.

With nothing to do but wait for the meal to be ready, Ryou stood and stared at his stocking feet and listened to the microwave's quiet whirr. His mind was so open that there was no clear boundary between him and Bakura, and yet so empty that it didn't matter.

Bakura determined the boy awake enough to listen, and gave him a mental shake. _"You'll come down here,"_ he flashed the location, _"and open the vault."_

"_You're—"_ The thought was abruptly broken off as Bakura's irritation roiled through their link, but his Host could not entirely stifle his incredulity. Immaterial laughter jumped in his throat as Ryou choked down his first reaction—

And then the impression of a knot in his gut as the boy realized what retrieving his Other would entail.

"_The microwave beeped. Hurry up and finish your stew."_

Ryou complied and then went to dig out Bakura's spare tool bag, stuffed it with snacks, and slipped on his shoes. He leaned on the Ring to slip through the Shadows, reappearing in an alley next to the vault's building. Pausing for an energy bar and a strip of beef jerky, he willed gray starbursts from his vision. Bakura held his tongue, sensing the rising fatigue from fighting the cold of the Shadows and the malice of the Ring even while supporting two bodies.

Finally, Ryou recovered and looked up at the building.

"_The laptop in that bag has a program to loop the security cameras…"_ Bakura guided his host through the security system.

Ryou didn't need prompting to use the Ring's powers to knock out the guard, but had to sit down and nibble on another energy bar before he moved to the vault door.

He flinched back as soon as it was open, dismay shuddering from his mind to Bakura's. Bakura supposed the bodies were becoming a little rank.

His Host studiously looked away until Bakura exited the vault, but a new concern from the boy sent a phantom chill down Bakura's spine.

"Will the blood you're leaving all over the floor dissipate with your body?" Ryou whispered almost inaudibly, as if he didn't trust the job he'd just done on the security.

Bakura grunted, amused by Ryou's flinch when he spoke normally. "Of course it will. I wouldn't leave it for any third-rate magic user to play with, would I?"

He wasn't sure magically created blood had all the same properties as the natural kind, but it was blood-like enough to be magically powerful, and at the very least could be used to track him.

Not that the idiot who'd proven that had survived long enough to pass on knowledge of that vulnerability, but it was among the first things any idiot would try. And the world was full of idiots. Tanaka, for example.

Bakura gave Ryou his coat—not just for carrying; the little idiot was shivering in his pajamas—and then let his body dissolve into Shadows as he returned to the Ring.

Without Bakura draining so much from his magic and therefore from his spirit energy and body, Ryou should be able to walk them all the way home.

_He's getting stronger,_ Bakura mused as he drifted into dormancy. _A month ago merely being possessed for a night would have left him ravenous and exhausted. Tonight he supported a second body for hours, has a long walk back to his apartment, and will no doubt have the energy left activate a _fuda.

_I'll wake up and he'll not only have completely recovered, but my new trinket will be sealed so tightly that Abe no Seimei himself would struggle to cancel the ward…The boy really needs to…lighten up about…interesting magical artifacts…._

The Shadows embraced him.

**Omake — What the artifact probably wasn't**

Three days later, two days after Bakura had intended before he'd involved his _fuda_-happy Host, Yuugi woke to find that he was wearing a strange amulet and that his pajamas were invisible.

No matter how he tried, he couldn't get the amulet off. "Other Me?"

His Other's groggy presence shifted in his heart. _"…what's wrong, Aibou?"_

"Do you know where this amulet came from?" He gave it one last tug before letting his hands drop to his lap. It was strange—he could feel the cotton, but when he looked down….

"_It is unfamiliar to me. Perhaps it's a trick of one of our enemies. Be careful, Yuugi, it could be dangerous."_ Other Yuugi came fully awake. _"I'll take over."_

"Ok."

Shadows rushed through his body, gently placing his soul aside.

This had no affect on his clothing, though his appearance seemed a bit less distressing in the wake of his Other's confidence.

Yami Yuugi pulled at the amulet firmly, then angrily, but to no avail. He finally attempted to banish it to the Shadow Realm, which backfired and knocked _them_ into the Realm.

Once he'd managed to get back to Yuugi's bedroom, he sat down and took stock. "I fear it seems immovable, Aibou. But don't worry; we'll solve this."

"_Of course we will!"_ Yuugi didn't like for his Other to feel so discouraged.

By mutual consent, Other Yuugi receded to Yuugi's heart.

Yuugi glanced at his clock and hastily dug out his school uniform. His pajamas reappeared as soon as he discarded them, but his uniform disappeared as soon as he put it on.

There was a knock on his door. "Yuugi? You're going to be late!"

Yuugi's panicked squeak drew Grandpa's head into his room. "Why aren't you dressed yet?"

"I _am_ dressed grandpa! Feel!" Yuugi held out his arm.

Grandpa shook his head, clearly concerned for his grandson's mental health, but complied. His eyes widened. "This is amazing!" He frowned. "But why did you make your clothes invisible? You can't go to school like _this_, it's against the dress code!"

"Grandpa! It isn't my fault!"

- - -

The third morning Yuugi failed to appear by homeroom, Anzu turned to Jounouchi. "I hope Yuugi-kun's all right! It must be an awful virus—he never misses school."

Jounouchi shrugged. "I'm sure he's fine. He's probably just skipping."

This was less than reassuring to Anzu, who punched his shoulder. "He isn't like you—he wouldn't skip! If he says he's sick, than he's sick!"

"Ow, ow, take it easy!"

Behind them Ryou buried his head in his biology textbook, trying to ignore the good cheer resounding in his heart. His Other wasn't pleased enough with himself to have managed anything permanent…but the bouts of snickering that echoed through his head at odd times were distracting.

He needed to find a new book on wards—his Other had figured out how to dispel all the ones in his old books.


End file.
